


It Started With Lemons

by im2tired4urshit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Casual Touch, Eventual Romance, M/M, Partying, Post-Nogitsune, Recreational Drug Use, Recreational Wolfsbane Use, Star Trek References, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-12 02:06:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im2tired4urshit/pseuds/im2tired4urshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief Stiles doesn’t hate Peter anymore. Sure, he hated the guy when he was a crazy asswipe of a murderer, but the guy literally died for his sins. The fuckers a goddamn werewolf messiah, that’s like hating Jesus. No one can hate Jesus. Well, you can’t hate something you don’t believe in, but even if you don’t believe in him the idea of Jesus is pretty chill.</p><p>After the whole Nogitsune-thing Stiles and Peter enter a "completely platonic" “casual touch friendly” relationship... Yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Werewolf Jesus, Lemons, William Shatner, and Other Platonic Adventures

Contrary to popular belief Stiles doesn’t hate Peter anymore. Sure, he hated the guy when he was a crazy asswipe of a murderer, but the guy literally died for his sins. The fuckers a goddamn werewolf messiah, that’s like hating Jesus. No one can hate Jesus. Well, you can’t hate something you don’t believe in, but even if you don’t believe in him the  _ idea _ of Jesus is pretty chill.

 

Not the point. The point, because there most definitely is one, is that Stiles does not hate Peter Hale.

 

He might make jabs at the guy, sure, but he never brings up the shit that matters. Just like Peter never makes fun of him for the stuff that matters. They have an unspoken agreement about it. They have plenty of unspoken agreements, actually. like that they always got meat lovers pizza on research nights, and that Peter always warns Stiles when someone sounds or smells like a specific emotion when they enter the loft.

 

They also have many  _ spoken _ agreements. Especially after the Nogitsune. 

 

Now see, like he said, Stiles doesn’t hate Peter. He just never expected to have a “casual touch friendly” relationship with the guy.

 

Like every important story (that’s not sci fi) it started on a cold stormy day.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you’ve never hunted a pixie?” Stiles hissed from where he was hunched over Derek’s “dining room” table.

 

“Yes Stiles, for the twentieth fucking time. I’m sure I have never fought a pixie.” Peter snarled from the couch. 

 

They both had insane amounts of books scattered around them. Stiles had a thought board taped up to the giant glass window in front of him. All the information that  they could find on pixie’s was taped up with red and blue string connecting everything. Peter had a bit neater of a setup, he had three piles of closed books ( to be read, to be reread, and unhelpful) along with the five books he had in his lap and on the cushions next to him (those are the ‘currently being read’s).

 

“Oh Christ in high-heels.” Stiles exclaimed as he ran to the thought board.

 

“What?” Peter asked.

 

Stiles grabbed several of the articles off of the thought board and threw them at Peter.

“I think I figured it out! Oh my god!” Stiles whipped around to face Peter as he pulled out his phone.

 

Scott picked up after the second ring, he sounded out of breath. Guess the pixies were really kicking ass.

 

“Dude, please tell me you figured it out.” Scott panted through the phone.

 

“Have you tried lemons?” Stiles asked.

 

“Why the fu-” 

 

“No we haven’t tried lemons. Should we?” Derek barked.

 

“Yup.” Stiles chirped.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Stiles threw up his hands and whooped as he danced around. One of his feet got caught on the other and he lurched forward.

 

Instead of falling to the ground Stiles wrapped his arms around Peter and pulled him into a hug. They both went stiff for a beat before relaxing and practically melting into each other's arms. After another beat of silence Stiles asked, “When was the last time someone touched you nonviolently?”

 

“Since before the fire, I think. Doctor’s aren’t very gentle with coma patients.” He whispered.

 

“You know, when I suggested that all you needed was a hug I was joking, and maybe a little drunk.” 

 

As they stood together, still wrapped in each other's embrace Stiles made a decision. 

 

“How about we make a rule.” He suggested.

 

“A rule?”

 

“Yeah, whenever one of us needs a hug we can just go hug each other.”

 

Peter pulled back and raised an eyebrow at him, “Are you sure about that?”

 

“Well I mean sure. Everyone needs a hug sometimes.” Stiles shrugged.

 

“Alright then.”

 

* * *

 

So that’s how it happened, no matter what Scott said about it later on, just two dudes that really needed a hug.

 

In all honesty the most surprising part, to Stiles at least, was that no one seemed to notice. Except for the Sheriff, that is.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong. Peter was bored and decided to come check on his best/only friend and hang out.

 

They ended up having an argument about which episode of Star Trek had the most over-acting. So they, of course, had to have a marathon.

 

That’s how the Sheriff found them, cuddled up on Stiles’ bed laughing at Shatner's beautiful acting skills. 

 

“Something you want to tell me?” The Sheriff asked.

 

“William Shatner is a gift to the world.” Stiles replied.

 

“Alright. I’m ordering Thai for dinner, if you have any preferences now is the time to say something.”

 

“Pad Thai and Rad Na for me please!”

 

“If they have Pad Kua Kai I would love some.” Peter added

 

The Sheriff nodded and went down stairs. Twenty minutes later they were all sat down at the dinner table eating and talking and having fun. After that Peter was found at their dinner table more often than not.

 

* * *

 

It got to the point that one Saturday when Scott was over, doing homework and eating all their snacks like usual, John came home with fastfood and the first person to reprimand him was Peter as he was walking in the backdoor.

 

* * *

  
  


“I brought food!” John yelled, kicking the front door shut behind himself.

 

“ _ That _ is not food  _ that  _ is artery clogging shit.” Peter drawled from the backdoor.

 

“Ha! See! I’m not the only one who thinks so!” Stiles yelled from the top of the stairs.

 

He and Scott came crashing down the stairs like a herd of elephants and fell upon the food like a pack of (were)wolves. After Scott had made his way through his first burger he paused his food inhalation to ask Peter, “Dude, no offence, but what are you even doing here?”

 

“Eating. Sorry, did my lack of rapid inhalation of solid objects lead you to believe something else?” Peter replied haughtily.

 

It was kind of ruined by the french fry he was waving around as he said it.

 

Stiles snorted.

 

At Scott’s confused stare John added, “He means chew your food, son.”

 

The rest of dinner passed by as per usual. Stiles complained about everything he could, even things he had already complained about that same day, and Peter made fun of him for it. Besides the near constant constipated face Scott was pulling it was a pretty average dinner.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Footie Pajamas and the Ambiguously Gay Duo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao can yall believe i updated this already?

Scott, apparently, took it upon himself to tell the entire pack of Stiles’ bro-ship with Peter. Which, admittedly, isn’t surprising at fucking all.

 

So, two weeks after the Burger Incident™, Stiles and Peter had a run in at the grocery store with Derek and Isaac. They were in the produce section - Stiles may or may not have been sitting in the cart and telling Peter what to do like he was a mighty king and Peter was the unfortunate peasant that was his man servant - when they were ambushed.

 

* * *

  
  
  


“What the fuck are you two doing?” Isaac asked.

 

“Shopping, what does it look like?” Stiles rebutted.

 

“It looks like Peter is pushing you around in a cart like a child.” Derek dead panned.

“Excuse you, I am a youth.”

 

“That would probably be more convincing if you weren’t in footie pajamas right now.” Peter pointed out.

 

“Isaac wears footie pajamas too.” Stiles points back.

 

“My footie pajamas aren’t a batman costume.”

 

“You footie pajamas have Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on them though.”

 

“Which is why I don’t wear them in public.”

 

“You wore them to school last week.” Peter cut in.

 

“How the hell do you know that?” Derek asked. Though, honestly he wasn’t really asking. He more stated it and raised one eyebrow and called it good.

 

“I sent him a  snapchat.” Stiles says sheepishly from the bottom of the cart.

 

“You do not have a fucking snapchat.” Isaac looked at Peter like he had whipped out his dick or something.

 

“Stiles made it for me. He was tired of me saving all the stupid pictures he sent me to use as reaction images.” Peter said nonchalantly.

 

“You do realise you could just sc-”

 

“If you finish that sentence I will shove an entire fist full of wolfsbane up your ass - no prep - and then light it - and you - on fire.” Stiles cut in.

 

“If you lit me on fire the wolfsbane wouldn’t poison me and I’d heal.” Isaac pointed out.

 

“Yes and then I’d be able to do it again - repeatedly - plus you’d still feel it.” Stiles replied passively.

 

“Now I see why Scott was so worried about you two hanging out.” Isaac said.

 

“He was like that when I found him. They wouldn’t give me a refund.” Peter said.

 

“Who is “they” exactly?” Stiles asked.

 

“Your dad mainly.” Peter replied.

 

“Oh that makes sense.”

 

“Wait... If you were already like that, what’s up with Scott?” Isaac cut in.

 

“Oh, he’s probably worried because he’d try and stop me, but Peter would probably have one of Lydia’s glitter signs or something while he cheered me on.” Stiles said.

 

“That or I’d help. Maybe not in that particular situation, unless you needed an alibi, but I’d most likely help.” Peter shrugged.

 

“Hey, thanks man.” Stiles held up his fist and received an Epic Fist Bump™ from Peter.

 

“Jesus Christ.” And with that they left Stiles and Peter to finish shopping.

 

* * *

 

Five days after that Erica showed up while Peter and Stiles were marathoning Say Yes To The Dress.

 

* * *

 

“Oh Lord, her mom is such a bitch! News flash Janet this isn’t about you!” Stiles yelled at the T.V.

 

“I know! And look at her dad! I bet you three bucks that before the next commercial break he’ll mention how much he doesn’t like her fiance again.” Peter said as he waved his spoon full of ice cream at the T.V.

 

“What in God’s good name are you two doing?” Erica asked, standing in the doorway.

 

“Watching Say Yes, now shush Danielle’s getting a confession.” Peter said, staring raptly at the screen.

 

On screen, the maid of honour Danielle was speaking.

 

“Honestly I think she’s only going through with all of this because her dad told her he would disown her if she married a black guy.” The woman had a knowing look on her face and she flipped her hair before the screen cut back to the bride trying on dress number four.

 

“Oh my God, that bitch!” Stiles yelled.

 

“I cannot believe this.” Erica said.

 

“I know! I totally thought Danielle was  _ actually _ Missy’s friend!” Peter said.

 

“No I-”

 

“Peter you owe me five bucks, I called it!” Stiles interrupted.

 

“Well you still owe me ten so...” Peter shrugged.

 

“You owe me like fifteen!”Stiles leaned forward and pointed an accusatory finger.

 

“What?”

 

“I spotted you at Starbucks like four times last week!”

 

“Oh, I totally forgot.”

 

“Obviously.” Stiles sat back and crossed his arms.

 

They continued watching, making comments as they were won’t to do, and when it finally ended Erica looked over at Stiles to see that - at some point - he had his head pillowed in Peter’s lap.

 

“What the fuck is happening right now?” Erica asked quietly.

 

“What?” Stiles asked innocently.

 

“Scott said you two were chummy, not that you were the second coming of the Ambiguously Gay Duo!” Erica gestured to them widely as if to prove her point.

 

“I’m Ace.” Was all Stiles could think to say.

 

“Why am I Gary?” Peter asked affronted.

 

“Because you’re more flexible, and we both know that of the two of us I’m the more likely to call you some weird gay nickname in public.” Stiles said.

 

“Okay, yeah, but I have more powers than you do! And I’m the older one!” 

 

“Please, you’re twelve shut up.” Stiles said, head still in Peter’s lap.

 

“I never should have told you anything about that I swear.” Peter grumbled.

 

Erica nearly choked when she watched him start playing with Stiles’ newly longer hair.

 

“Thanks friend-of-friends.” Stiles snickered.

 

Peter growled and shoved him off of both his lap and the couch.

 

“You know what, I’ll just tell Scott we had a heart felt conversation about tampons or something. You two deserve each other.” Erica said as she stormed out of the house.

 

“I love you, Catwoman!” Stiles called after her.

 

* * *

 

Boyd was a lot more chill about all of it.

 

* * *

 

They were walking down the hall, on there way to Econ when Boyd looked over at him and said,

 

“So... He’s not actually like Scott keeps trying to tell us he is, right?”

 

“Nah dude, he’s super chill now. Kinda like werewolf Jesus, ya know?” Stiles replied, nearly tripping over himself trying to sound nonchalant about it.

  
“I’ll change his contact name then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who else has the Ambiguously Gay Duo's theme song stuck in their head now?


	3. Queens, Gay Bars, Avengers, and Melissa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a piece of shit so take this I guess
> 
> next chapter should be up before March 20th (????) idk we'll see, comments make it happen fast tho so keep that in mind

The Queens loved Peter from the first moment they saw him.

* * *

 

Stiles waved jauntily at the gruff bouncer over his shoulder as they pushed into the throng of bodies inside of Jungle.

“I’m surprised he let you in.” Peter teased and jabbed his elbow into Stiles’ ribs lightly.

“I’m not. Brad is absolutely terrified of the girls. Some asshole got too handsy a couple months ago and they had to call the cops ‘cause no one could get Wendy off the guy. He left with a whole lot less blood than he came in here with. Hasn’t carded me or anyone I like ever since.” Stiles explained as he weaved through the crowd toward the bar.

“Is she still allowed in here?” Peter had to shout to make sure Stiles could hear.

“Yeah. No one pressed charges!”

“Why do you sound so happy about that?” Stiles shrugged and waved the bartender down.

The music was loud and the bass heavy. Men in different stages of dress and undress pressed together and ground together. The atmosphere was thrumming with energy, and the air full of the scent of arousal and sweat. Peter put a hand protectively around Stiles’ waist and pulled him close.

Even before the fire Peter had never been in a place like this. House parties were one thing, but here... Here he could hear someone snorting coke in one of the bathrooms and could smell the hash in someone’s vape pen (Stiles was right, vaper’s are assholes).

“You good?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, sorry I just got detracted. There’s a lot happening.” Peter shrugged and took his drink. A coke, how ironic.

“Well look alive, the welcoming committee has spotted us.” Stiles winked at him and threw back the rest of his drink in one swallow.

Stiles broke away from Peter’s embrace and opened his arms wide for the entourage of queens. When he finally escaped his face was covered in kiss marks, glitter, and smears of foundation.

“Girls, this is Peter!” Stiles flailed an arm towards him.

“Hi Peter!” They chorused. They all probably practiced that.

* * *

 

Melissa was... Melissa.

* * *

 

“So, are you two dating now?” Melissa asked one night as she stitched up a wound on Stiles’ side.

There had been a couple different omegas in town all at the same time. Stiles got caught in between two of them right before they got in a territory dispute over land that wasn’t even theirs. He got a nice new set of claw marks on his side to go with the five other sets he already had.

“No.” Both Peter and Stiles said calmly.

They weren’t surprised, and they flirted enough to realise that other people might get the wrong idea.

“Does your father know how close you two are?” She gave their clasped hands a significant look.

“Yes.” They said, again in unison.

“Is he okay with it?”

“He watched the Avengers with us last night.” Stiles said.

“And?”

“And he held my feet in his lap.” Peter said. Melissa gave them a ‘And that means what exactly?’ look.

“Usually I do, but I was sitting in Peter’s lap because dad only lets me have drinks on the couch if I’m next to the table and Peter wouldn’t move, but I had those apple sodas I like and-”

“Stiles shut up.” Peter said in a sweet voice.

“Hey, I’m injured! I’ll talk all I want!”

“No you won’t.” Melissa said.

“Yeah, you’re right I totally won’t.” Stiles said quickly.

Peter spent the next five minutes trying not to laugh. Stiles made it even harder by trying to have a silent conversation with him using only his eyes.


	4. Birthdays, Weed, Little Red Riding Hood, Gays, and Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha totally didn't post this when I said I would but happy 4/20

Kira was a bit more... Interesting?

But first, Peter’s birthday

 

* * *

 

 

“You didn't have to get me anything, I'm not getting you anything so really-”

 

“Shut up, literally no one asked, and yes you are.” Stiles interrupted, shaking the box in his hands towards Peter to emphasize the fact that he was still holding it.

 

Peter shot the Sheriff a look over Stiles’s shoulder only to see him also holding a brightly wrapped gift in his own hands. With a sigh Peter reached out and accepted the gift from Stiles.

 

Under the paper was a plain white box and inside of it was a pastel purple Polaroid camera. with it was several packages of film and four pictures of himself sleeping in odd places. One with him asleep in the bathtub with a Batman mask drawn into his face, in Stiles’s car in the middle of the school day (taken from the outside, he noted, meaning Stiles had totally known he'd tried to see him on his off period and pretended he didn't. The bastard) with various superhero masks drawn into the pedestrians to match his Batman mask, on the roof of the garage (taken from Stiles’s window), and one showing him asleep inside of a book fort in the library on the Beacon Hills Community College campus. All of them with the masks drawn on of course.

 

“I missed 24 of your birthday's and was a dick on the last one so I decided to make up for it with one nice gift. That way I can buy you really shitty ones for the rest of your life and you can't get mad.” Stiles joked, obviously knowing the thoughts running through Peter's head.

 

“I just got you a bottle of some weird whiskey Deaton said would get you drunk.” John said with a smile, handing Peter his own gift.

 

“Thank you, both of you,” Peter looked from Stiles’s face to his father's, “but you're both terrible at this. Werewolves can still smoke weed John, it's legal because werewolves have been fighting for it for decades.”

 

“Wait really?” John asked, looking absolutely floored.

 

“No. Well, yeah in that he can get high, no about the legalization thing. People just really wanna smoke weed.” Stiles cut in, sending a playful glare Peter's way.

“Dad please? It's Peter's first normal people Halloween, and it's not like there's not going to be adult supervision!” 

 

Stiles had been pleading with his father for nearly a week trying to get permission to throw a Halloween party. Ever since Peter mentioned that growing up he had never trick or treated because he was already too old by the time he had enough control over his wolf to be allowed (and by then everyone thought he had been kept home all those years for religious reasons so they never invited him to do anything fun) over his birthday dinner Stiles's had been on a warpath.

 

Peter could tell that the Sheriff's resolve was slipping, his heartbeat no longer accelerated every time it was mentioned and he couldn't smell anymore than the average amount of anxiety coming off of him.

 

“Stiles it's fine really, one more year of bingeing horror movies at home won't kill me.” Peter made sure he was behind the Sheriff looking at Stiles so that he could see the smile on his face.

 

Peter knew he'd take any chance he got to have this party, and he had just laid it before his feet.

 

“No it's not! It's not fair, you're a werewolf not a leper! You should have been able to do this you're whole life! Hunter's can suck my di-”

 

“ _ Alright!  _ You can have the party,” John interrupted.

 

“ _ Ye-” _

 

_ “But!” _

 

_ “No _ ,” Stiles slouched back down from where he had been about to fist pump.

 

“If I get a single call from this neighborhood,  _ one _ , I will ground you both until you're thirty, am I understood?” John sent a knowing glare over his shoulder at Peter who tried his best to look innocent.

 

“No calls, promise.” Stiles swore.

 

“And I don't want more than thirty people in my house.”

 

“I don't even know thirty people.” Peter said.

 

“Less than thirty, got it.” Stiles nodded.

 

“And I better not come home to my house smelling like a dispensary.” John said sternly, looking directly at Peter.

 

“Smoke outside like usual then.” Peter said, mock saluting.

 

“I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Now, can I go to work?” The Sheriff asked, putting his coffee cup down in the sink and turning towards the door.

 

“No,” Stiles said, hands on his hips.

 

Peter held up a brown paper bag with a feral smile aimed towards John who sighed before taking his lunch and leaving.

 

“That went well, I think.” Stiles said smiling.

 

“Bribing the neighbors was so much easier.” Peter leaned against the counter, exhausted.

 

“ _ So much _ easier.” Stiles fitted himself into the V of Peter's legs and leaned his head against Peter's chest.

 

* * *

 

 

“I think this might be a bit more than thirty people...”

 

“I think this place might smell a bit like a dispensary.”

 

“Thank God we bribed the neighbors or else this would probably be an actual issue.” Stiles laughed.

 

“Where did all these people even come from?” Peter asked.

 

All around them, literally the basement and upper floor included, were partying people. Peter saw no more than three people on the original invite list; which had included all the Queens, Brad and his boyfriend, some guys from Jungle, and Danny. Which could only mean one thing, someone fucking snitched. Maybe not to the cops, but it's the thought that counts.

 

“I think one of the Queens posted a selfie with her location tagged,” Stiles yelled, someone had brought a better sound system with them.

 

“Oh, so they're probably cool then.” 

 

So Peter reached for a drink and tried his hardest not to fall on his ass or do anything else embarrassing the rest of the night. The outfit was plenty.

 

* * *

 

Not twenty minutes after that almost the entirety of the pack showed up. That is to say Derek, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, and Kira.

They did not look happy.

Probably because they hadn't been invited to the party...

 

* * *

 

 

“What are you doing.” A calm voice ‘asked’ from directly behind Stiles’s shoulder.

 

“What the fuck does it- oh shit, that's Derek.” Stiles looked up from where he had been busy loading a bowl.

 

“I meant, what are you doing throwing a party in the sheriff's house.”

 

“One, he gave us permission,” Stiles paused to take a hit and pass the bong to Peter, he let out his breath before continuing with appropriate hand gestures, “dos, it's my house too bitch, the fuck?”

 

“He gave you permission.”

 

“My birthday was last week asshole, thanks for all the gifts by the way.” Peter snarked after passing the bong to some random guy who was in the circle next to him.

 

“Mine was-”

 

“While I was dead? Yeah I know, that's why I left you the bestiary. You're welcome.”

 

“Dude he has reason to not buy you stuff. Stop being a dick and trying to make him feel bad.” Stiles cut in slapping Peter on the forehead with the back of his hand.

 

“What-”

 

“You told me I'm not allowed to say the 'L’ word.”

 

“What does love have to do with this?” Derek asked confused.

 

“What? Nothing, I tell Peter I love him all the time.” Stiles flailed his arms around, like that helped explain.

 

“Gay.” Peter snorted.

 

“Probably,” Stiles said before taking another hit off the bong that had just been passed to him, “you want in on this?” Stiles offered holding the bong up to Derek.

 

He paused for a split second before taking it and sitting down.

 

“Wait what's the 'L’ word?” Peter asked.

 

“Rhymes with Nora.” Stiles whisper yelled.

 

“Oh shit, right. Yeah, honestly never buy me anything again I don't deserve it.” Peter told Derek.

 

“Nah, I'll get you something awful for Christmas.” Derek told him.

 

“Consider what happened to your disgusting abusive ex girlfriend your gift for the year.” Peter said dismissively.

 

“Gee, what a gi-”

 

“Are you guys smoking pot?!” 

 

Right, Kira.

 

“No?” Derek asked, putting the bong on the ground by the couch.

 

Kira started laughing. 

 

Good?

 

“No I'm not trying to be a buzz kill, I forgot to bring my pipe!” She gasped between fits of laughter.

 

“No way, you smoke pot? Peter is anyone in my room?” Stiles questioned.

 

“Not anyone doing anything we can't interrupt.” He replied, already standing.

 

“Let's take this upstairs man, this is gonna be great.” Stiles crowd.

 

* * *

 

Nearly two months after that incident Christmas break began.

Which, consequently, spawned another incident.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the sixth day of break and Stiles and Peter were on day five of a non-stop Supernatural binge. They were on season eight and were being kept conscious solely through determination. Neither wanted to be the first to fall asleep.

 

“Cas and Dean are so gay.” Stiles whispered.

 

“Yeah.” Peter whispered back.

 

“You know who else is gay?” Stiles asked a few moments later.

 

“Who?” 

 

“You.” Stiles stated matter-of-factly.

 

“Ok, pan yeah, but you’re just as gay as I am.” Peter pointed out.

 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged.

 

“It’s okay not to know.” Peter said, no longer paying the show any mind his eyes fully on Stiles.

 

Stiles looked up at Peter and their eyes met. He felt a warmth spread through his chest and his eyes slid down to Peter’s lips. When he dragged his eyes away he saw that Peter’s gaze was locked onto Stiles’ lips in turn.

 

“You know, I think we’re really gay.” Stiles whispered.

 

“Yeah.”

 

They gazed at eachother for a moment longer before Stiles said,

 

“Hey, you stopped watching first!”

 

“Oh thank God, can we sleep now?” Peter asked.

 

Stiles nodded and they moved down from their watching position to cuddle up and go to sleep.

 

* * *

 

They slept for almost 16 hours. 

 

They would have slept longer, but the Sheriff woke them up on Christmas Eve morning and made them help him decorate the tree.

 

Which is how the Argents found them when they came to visit.

 

* * *

  
  


“You can’t put two of the same baubles so close together!” Stiles practically yelled, moving the bauble involved to a more suitable spot.

 

“Why not? No one will care-”

 

“I will care Peter. Every time I see them so close together I will care, and I will blame you. I might get so distracted that I forget to make the reindeer cookies. You never know.” Stiles was looking Peter dead in the eye, and as he spoke Peter’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Without those reindeer cookies I might forget that it’s Christmas. We both know I only give gifts on Christmas and birthdays, so if I forget... You might have to wait another six months before you get any of your presents.” Peter said, meeting his gaze.

 

“You forget. My birthday may very well be six months away, but next christmas isn’t for another 366 days.” Stiles said, his eyes starting to narrow.

 

“Yes, but we both know how forgetful I am. I might forget about your birthday too. Who can tell?” Peter said reaching for the bawble.

 

“I think we have already established that  _ I can tell.” _ Stiles hissed.

 

Peter picked the bawble up from where Stiles had moved it and slowly returned it to its previous position. Stiles reached over and grabbed the bawble the second Peter stopped touching it. He slowly raised it up higher, as if he were going to put it on the tree. Just before he set it down he took a step closer to Peter and while he was distracted Stiles slammed the ceramic bawble down on Peter’s head. They did all this without breaking eye contact once.

 

“Would you two  _ please stop breaking all the goddamn DECORATIONS?”  _ The Sheriff yelled from his office.

 

“I’LL DIE BEFORE I LET THIS GODLESS HEATHEN RUIN MY TREE!” Stiles yelled back turning to face the hall so his father could better hear him, “AND YOU SHOULD BE- Oh shit hi Allison... and Mr. Argent.” Stiles cut off his yelling the second they were in sight.

 

“Hi, Stiles.” Allison said waving slightly.

 

“Stiles, Peter.” Mr. Argent nodded to them both.

 

“What are you two doing here? Can I get you anything? We have some hot cocoa if you want?” Stiles immediately shifted into host mode. 

 

“We stopped by to drop off your gifts!” Allison said holding up a bag she’d been holding behind her back.

 

“We didn’t think you’d have company over, we can come back later if you-” 

 

“Peter’s not company, don’t worry! I have your gifts upstairs if you’d like to exchange them now? I know dad’s most excited for your gift this year.” Stiles interrupted.

 

“I’d love that Stiles, do you want any help?” Allison asked, handing her father their bag of gifts.

 

“Sure.” Stiles shrugged.

 

As he was leaving he sent Peter a look and jerked his head towards Mr. Argent. Peter sent him a look of his own, but was shut down by a jerky hand gesture Stiles made. Once he had actually left Peter looked toward the door for a moment, seeming to draw into himself, and them he looked over at Mr. Argent and he seemed to swell back to himself.

 

“Would you like any of that hot cocoa Stiles mentioned? He makes it better than anyone else.” Peter made a gesture towards the kitchen.

 

“Sure. Just try not to hurt yourself.” Mr. Argent said with a snort.

 

“What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means that as far as I can see, you’re completely lost without that kid holding your hand.” 

 

Peter sent him an indignant look, but after a second his face shifted into a smile and he shrugged.

 

“You got me there.”

 

Peter exited the room to the sound of Argent’s surprised laughter, but by the time he had returned to the living room with hot cocoa for four Mr. Argent was gone. Peter listened for a second before setting down the drinks and making his way upstairs to Stiles’ room.

 

Inside the room Mr. Argent was looking at all the pictures up on Stiles’ wall. Most of them were of Peter and Stiles, but some featured the other members of the pack or one of the boys alone. In Argent’s hand was a photo the two had taken during their Halloween party. They had taken it on the polaroid Stiles had gotten Peter for his birthday the week before hand. In the photo Stiles had an arm around Peter’s shoulders and they were both smiling like loons, Stiles was looking at the camera, but Peter’s eyes were on Stiles. They had dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf, Peter thought he looked terrible in red but Stiles had insisted. On the wall they were leaned against you could see shadows of dozens of people, blobs of brightly colored lights, and thick clouds of smoke.

 

Peter remembered the night fondly, it had been an all around enjoyable night. He spent quality time with Derek for the first time in years, he had gotten to know his nephews old betas and their new pack, and he'd gotten to party with Stiles.

 

“Has McCall seen these?” Argent asked gesturing to all the photos.

 

“He was there when that one was taken, and he’s been here since they’ve been put up. Stiles had to put some of his old ones into a scrapbook so he could put new ones up not too long ago, though. He might not have noticed that they were different photos.” Peter shrugged.

 

“Has John seen these?” Argent’s eyes narrowed.

 

“It's his house, he's in here pretty often I'm sure he has.” Peter shrugged leaning against the door frame.

 

“He hasn't said anything?”

 

“Not all parents share your values, Argent.” Peter sneered.

 

“I thought age would be what he would be concerned with.”

 

“I was in a coma for six years, mentally I'm only 20. Healing from the fire physically aged me prematurely, I'm genetically 26. not that there's anything to be concerned about, Stiles and I are just friends.”

 

“Yeah, and I-”

 

“Hey Peter get down here! We're gonna open presents!” Stiles yelled.

 

“I would have heard your you whispered asshole, calm down.” Peter muttered to himself jerking his head towards the door and following Argent back downstairs.

 

* * *

  
Stiles tried to pretend he wasn't a little worried about the wolfsbane bullets his father got

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my docs for over a year so take what I have and you can all wait while I ~~pretend to~~ work on the rest of it.


End file.
